


turn my soul into a raging fire

by badboy_fangirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, this is REALLY THE PWP, because the plot was established <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2498606">HERE</a>. LOL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turn my soul into a raging fire

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Svensexy_zps3aa10445.gif.html)   
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> Author's notes: Muse, 2. Candy, 0. In case you wondered. Title lifted from Phillip Phillip's "Raging Fire."

Daryl comes all over her shirt.

There's a little bit on her hand, too, but mostly, it's all over her shirt. And it's kinda gross and weird and wonderful all at the same time. 

They're laying there, panting, and as soon as Daryl catches his breath, he says, "Guess we best get you outta this," and tugs on her shirt. It occurs to her that their first sex happened while she was mostly dressed. Daryl's still got his pants on, too, though they are open and shoved down enough to leave him completely exposed from neck to penis, while she's still completely covered, except for her bare legs.

She smiles a little, because she went down to the showers with him and undressed on purpose, to seduce him or whatever, and here they are. 

His hands carefully fold the hem up to keep his semen from spilling, and Beth sits up a little bit. He pulls the shirt off over her head and tosses it aside, and then his hands are cupping her breasts, and little sounds fall from her lips as his rough fingers brush over her nipples. She wasn't self-conscious to begin with, and his worshipful treatment shows her she has nothing to worry about anyway.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he whispers, and she can't help the way her breath catches. This is Daryl like she's never seen before, like she never even dreamed existed. Then he leans into her and his tongue darts out to touch her nipple and she arches into him. His hands are there, sliding around her back to support her, to keep her at the right place for his mouth. His lips surround one nipple perfectly, sucking hard, sending sensation shooting through her body.

Beth has had a couple of boys put their hands and mouths on her before, but never like this. Never with this feeling rushing through her body, never with this crazy need that makes her feel like it will never be enough.

And Daryl just plays with her. His lips go gentle, his tongue teasing and light, one hand moving back to her front side to pluck at the nipple not in his mouth. Beth feels like she's one big pulsing ache, that everywhere he touches her is too much, and not enough at the same time.

And yet she can't imagine asking him to stop for anything. Ever. She just wants to be like this with him forever in the semi-dark. 

He eases her back to lie flat on the floor of the tent before moving down her body. As he trails kisses down her abdomen, she feels herself tensing, _hoping_ , and then his fingers brush over her still intact underwear. His thumb caresses the small bow on the front, and then dips down to where the crotch is soaked from the orgasm she already had. Her hips lift up in silent need, but more sounds rush out of her throat, too loudly, embarrassing her.

She focuses her eyes on the ceiling of the tent when he pulls her panties down and puts his mouth between her legs. She's never let anyone do that to her before, but as she jams a hand against her lips to stifle the scream that wants to erupt, all she can think is, _why the fuck not?_

Because, _oh. my. god._ His tongue moves inside her and then his breath is just touching the most sensitive place on her body and it's all she can do not to shriek with pleasure. Then his tongue moves again, this time landing flat against the spot where his hot breath had been seconds before. They've been in Alexandria for three weeks, and every day of those three weeks, she's imagined this. There were days when, alone in her tent, she imagined it in such detail that it had been up to her to satisfy the need she stirred in her own body. And yet, her imagination was nowhere close to this. She loses control of her hips (they jerk upwards against his face without her permission), and her hands (no longer do they hold sounds in, but grab at Daryl's hair, holding him tight against her), and her voice gets even louder, not making any specific sounds, just strangled cries that bounce all around the cloth enclosure surrounding them.

She can't even care that Daryl's nearest neighbors (some of their friends, no doubt) can probably hear her. The sudden pressure of his entire tongue is gone; there is just a soft, rhythmic probing, and as her mind narrows in on the fact that it's the point of his tongue flicking over her, he pushes two fingers inside her, and her world explodes. She knows she's probably making more noise, but the only sound she can hear is a harsh buzzing in her ears. 

The ceiling of the tent disappears from her view, and it takes even longer for her to realize it's because she closed her eyes.

Then Daryl's lips are against hers again, and he whispers, "Y'taste sweet." He rubs his lips over hers, and she can feel the moisture transfer from his mouth to hers. "Try it," he breathes. Then his fingers are moving inside her once more, and she spreads her legs obscenely to let him do whatever he wants. She opens her eyes, and their gazes lock. He leans close again, running the tip of his tongue over her top lip. She darts her own out to her bottom lip, and definitely gets a smack of something she's never tasted before. 

It's like her body can't contain the feelings she's having.

She won't be able to think about it until later, how different Daryl is right here, how open, how he says things he'd never say in the light of day. But in the moment, all she knows is how aroused she is when their tongues touch outside her mouth, and then he's kissing her hard and deep. Everything she's ever seen in his eyes somehow translates into heat and passion that she never realized was possible. His fingers move in and out of her, and then his thumb dials in on her clitoris until she's not quite sure if it's pleasure or pain that she's feeling, but it builds so quickly that all she can do it ride it out.

She grips his arm, embedding her fingers into his biceps, and as every muscle in her body starts quivering, she knows it's pleasure. Pleasure she had no clue about; pleasure no one could tell her about anyway. She had to experience it for herself.

Her next clear thought comes an undetermined amount of time later, when she opens her eyes again to see him just lying quietly next to her, watching. 

He's soft and sweet, but still breathing fast; it occurs to her that everything he just did to her made him feel everything she did, except the final, grand finale. With their gazes locked, she reaches for his cock again.

She wants to do everything to him that he did to her, but she's not sure if she's that brave; it had already taken all the gumption she had to come to his tent in the first place with the stupid shower idea. The whole way there, she'd been thinking it was the dumbest seduction tactic in the history of ever, and then it had worked so perfectly. So, what does she know about anything? Not much, obviously.

And Daryl? Daryl seemed to know everything she needed, everything she wanted even when she didn't know it herself.

"Beth..." he whimpers as her hand surrounds his smooth, hard flesh. She freezes, unsure if his tone means he wants more, or needs her to stop. "I..."

"What?" she whispers. When he just stares hard at her, she begs, "Tell me." Then she adds, "Tell me what to do."

A half-hearted laugh escapes him. "Oh, god, Beth. Y'don't have to do anything, just bein', just touchin', is enough to..."

He motions with his hand in a fist shape, and she at least knows what that means. So she clasps him tight and copies his movement. "Like that?" she asks when he groans. She knows she'd done a good job the first time, but it had all happened so fast, now she wants to build some technique.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and his mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. 

Beth does it again, pressing down, and then moving back up quickly, picking up the moisture at the head of his cock. She licks her lips, thinking of him giving her a taste of herself moments before. "Do you want me to put my mouth here?" she asks, rubbing her thumb across the tip in such a way that he shudders violently.

She realizes then that it's an actual case of Daryl not being able to utter a sound, not just his usual hesitating. But his hand comes up and grabs at the back of her head, his fingers tangling into her hair, and somehow that's enough for her.

She whispers, "Lie back," and he does as she commands. Then she slides down so that her face is level with his cock. "I've never done this," she says softly. "I don't know if it'll be any good. You were really good at what you did."

His belly contracts under her eyes, and then she realizes he's laughing again. "I don't know what the hell I'm doin'," he mutters, drawing her gaze back to his face. "I just listened for the right sounds." His hand squeezes the back of her head. "You don't hafta."

"I want to," she declares, meaning it with every fiber of her being. "I want to make you..."

"Stop," he says, his fingers clenching. "It ain't gonna take much, believe me."

His eyes widen a little, in a _y'know what I mean_ sorta way, and Beth can't help the giggles that shake her. "You want me, real bad, doncha, Mr. Dixon?"

The most solemn expression crosses his face then, a combination of utter devotion and desperate need that makes Beth feel like the only woman in the world. He looks like he suddenly has a million things to say, but all that comes out when his lips move is her name.

All she knows is nobody's ever said it like that before.

She leans over him and licks delicately at the head of his penis, and something that can only be described as the "right" sound erupts from him. So she does it again, several times, letting the music of those sounds guide her. Then some sort of age-old instinct takes over and she pulls him into her mouth, sucking on him the way he had at her breast. His hips jump, his other hand joins the one already in her hair, and he whimpers so deeply in his chest it seems to vibrate through his body into hers. She tries sucking at the same moment she moves her tongue around the head and then he shouts her name, his body going rigid under her. She nearly chokes as he spills himself into her mouth, but she manages to take a breath and swallow at just the right second. 

It should probably be gross, but it's not; it's Daryl, at his most vulnerable, and she loves every part of him. 

She lets him gasp and pant his way into more regulated breathing before she wipes the excess from her chin with her hand. Crawling up his body and leaning over him, she drags her thumb across his lips. She seals her mouth over his, flicking her tongue against the seam of his. "You taste pretty good, too," she whispers.

His hands have settled over her lower back and ass now, but his eyes open slowly and they kiss again, tongues tangling. There is something strangely erotic about kissing with your eyes wide open, and Beth pulls away to breathe, "I think this whole sex thing might kill me."

Daryl's smile is small, but reaches all the way to his eyes. "Yeah, but what a way to go."

She falls asleep, right there on his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> You may notice in this fic anyway, that Beth tends to be....the raunchier of the two. I don't know how to explain it other than I wasn't working with the handicap of a sexual assault like I was all summer. Ahem. Otherwise, it's just me. In which case, I apologize. ;-)


End file.
